This is the introductory post for Eat Cheap Shit, my new column about cheap food, sexuality and cooking, and families going broke. May it be the start to a long run of posts about dirt-cheap yet delicious deals.
On Tuesday, I sat with my best friend S as she finished her dinner. She asked if I wanted some, but I declined. (I was broke.)
“Why’s that?” she asked. “What did you spend it on?”
“Food,” I admitted. She snorted.
“What did you eat?”
Well, what did I eat? I ate a sumptuous lunch at Amir’s, a tiny falafel joint on 116th and Broadway. It’s a tiny place that makes you hate the weather; each time someone opens the door, the straight chill freezes everything.